


Wayward

by KyMarie0801



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Divergance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10765563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyMarie0801/pseuds/KyMarie0801
Summary: After the death of his twin sister, Carver Hawke has blamed his older sister for everything. Now, several months after spending one night with Marian, its up to Fenris to make sure Carver doesn't become the kind of Templar that has people running in fear. More importantly though, its time to make sure that Fenris stops running and protects the only person he has ever cared about from being lost to him forever, mage or no.





	1. Chapter 1

Wayward

            Tossing. Turning. Need.

            What did he need?

            He needed… escape. From what? From who?

            Cold shocks raced through his limbs as Fenris bolted upright in bed. Moonlight shined through the grimy window, reflecting off his lyrium brands. The cold edge to the air took some of the pressure off his shoulders. It wasn’t unusual for him to have strange dreams when the air chilled.

            As sleep faded, his mind began to clear about his dream. He hadn’t been dreaming of slavery, or being forced to escape the things he’d done for his master. No, it had been something entirely different.

            In the time since fleeing the chains that bound him to Danarius, his dreams had been full of the pain slavery had caused him. But now… now it was an entirely different kind of pain that woke him in the night. A pain personified by black hair, shining eyes, and a red war stripe across her nose.

            Hawke.

            No... Marian. Hawke seemed too, well, distant after everything they’d been through together. This was the woman who had stood in a back alley and struck down slavers without mercy, but with the fury of a goddess. She had given him a gift by finishing all but one before he had even arrived. He had thought her just that; a gift from whatever “Divine Being” may exist.

            Then, upon his realization that she was an apostate, everything seemed different. In Tevinter, nearly every mage yearned for one thing: power. His “upbringing” there had taught him not to trust a single one of them, or he would most likely end up being part of a blood ritual. Not that Danarius would allow such a thing to happen after he’d spent so much time investing in lyrium with Fenris.

            And yet, Marian had a way of challenging everything he thought he knew about magic. Day by day after they had met, he found his reserves chipping away. It was in the way she looked after him, inquired about his comforts and his needs, fought beside him, and the way she defended his freedom so vehemently.  It was unlike any person, mage or not, had ever treated him.

            Then there was one night. Just one single, thrilling night. It was heated, alone in her Hightown estate. It had been hot, but his body could help to shiver. Hard, in stark contrast to the softness of her skin. Electric, in a way he had never felt in all the time he could remember.

            While it lasted, it had been perfect. For the first time, laying next to her in the afterglow,  Fenris had felt truly happy and content. Then, the panic set in. He would never be able to stop running, Danarius was still out there. Who knew what would happen now that Hawke had his heart? Would she change? Was it all a ploy to earn his trust and use him?

            As the panicked thoughts reached their peak, it was as though some doorway was opened. With a rush, there was everything. Every moment, every second of his life came back from whatever void they had fallen to. He remembered his home, his family, his childhood.

            Escape.

            He had escaped.

            The memories waned, except for the one he wished to forget. Everything was gone again, save a memory of a beautiful woman, near to tears as she sat up in her bed.

            He could still hear the small crack in her voice when she woke to find him prepared to leave.

            “Please.” She had said. “ _Please_ don’t go. We can work through whatever you need, but please don’t leave.”

            Yes, he had escaped his torrent of memories, under the weak excuse of “too much”. Yet, even as he gathered his things, checked for everything and left her home, his heart had still somehow been left behind.

***

            It was only after a bottle of wine that the sun found him lounging half asleep back in his rickety bed.

            He’d been trying to avoid seeing Marian ever since he made the huge mistake of leaving. That usually meant he stayed in his stolen mansion until one of the others came to see him about a job they were taking that Marian wanted him on, which was never. None of them were the type to come see him; they said he was too intimidating. She seemed content to avoid him as well. So he spent his days dozing around the empty rooms, dreaming of her, dreaming of their night, and generally hating himself for being an idiot.

            He was jostled out of his false rest suddenly as a resounding series of frantic knocks came from the front door.

            Only one person had ever been bold enough to come see him in his hideaway. Despite his embarrassment to see her, he found himself rushing to the door.

            Rage filled him as the door swung open to reveal his former lover’s tear stained face. He didn’t know what had happened, nor did he need to. No one made _his_ Hawke cry without-

            No, not his Hawke. Fenhendis it was hard to not fall back into the habit of claiming her as a part of him. It was even harder to not pull her tight to him and console her. He couldn’t just stand there though!

            He tentatively reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and gently guided her inside.

            “What’s happened,” he asked.

            She hiccupped before her gasping cry began again. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she managed to get out. “I just didn't know where else to go.”

            “It’s fine,” he assured. “I’m always here when you need me.” He pulled her closer. “Now what is going on?”

            She took a deep breath against his shoulder before pulling back.

            “Its Carver,” She said. “He wants to join the Order. He wants to be a Templar.”

            Fenris was personally thrilled to hear that the younger Hawke wanted to pursue a life serving as a Knight. He’d make a good addition, and every warrior meant that there would be a stronger guard force looking after mages.

            Then it clicked.

            _Marian_ was a mage, and an apostate mage at that. If Carver truly meant to follow the Order and its ideals, he would have no choice but to turn Marian over to Knight Commander Meredith. With the way the Knight Commander was running the city, Marian would more than likely end up as a Tranquil, if not worse.

            She began to cry again, a rare sight in and of itself. Fenris wasn’t entirely sure how to comfort a woman who was usually so strong. She burrowed back into his neck, her sobs shaking her whole frame. It became so intense, her knees seemed to give way, and her body slumped to the floor, taking Fenris down for the ride.

            It was no secret that the two Hawkes had always been on completely opposite sides of matters for their whole lives. Marian had told him stories of their lives as children, and almost always, it was her and Carver pitted against each other. It had seemed that the only force keeping the two together had been Bethany. However, the other twin had died on the journey from Lothering.

            Fenris didn't know much about that time; Marian hadn’t liked to talk about the details often. There was no question though, as soon as Bethany had died, Carver had wanted nothing to do with Marian. He blamed his sister for the death of his twin, along with all the misfortune their family had suffered since, and it was obvious in every interaction they had.

            Marian had begun to calm down, and she pulled back a little. A small trinket had fallen from a thin necklace Marian wore when she had barreled into him again, a small white stone with something etched into it. As he looked closer, he saw it matched the pattern of the brands on his neck.

            “Oh no,” she muttered, wiping at her eyes. “I knew this chain wasn’t sturdy enough to be holding that. Here, let me see.”

            Fenris dutifully handed the small memento back, noticing how gently she handled it, almost reverently even. She looped the broken chain into a pocket on her belt, and cradled the stone up by her heart.

            “Thank you for noticing, Fenris,” she said after a moment. “I’d hate to lose this.”

            It seemed by her demeanor that she hadn’t seen him examine the design. Obviously, it was made to mean something about him; no one had marks like the lyrium in his skin.

            The quiet moment was broken by sudden pounding on the door.

            “Open up!” Yelled a voice. “By order of the Knight Commander!”

           


	2. Chapter Two

            “I say!” Repeated the voice. “Open up or face the consequences!”

            “Quickly,” said Fenris. “You can’t be here when they get past the door.”

            He ran, pulling her through the twist and turns of halls and stairwells. The back servant's door was hidden behind a pile of various boxes, which were quickly moved out of the way. Fenris pushed her through the ratty opening, and into the back yard.

            “There is a gap in the wall that used to be used for the servants who maintained the yards,” he gasped out. “It is towards the back and to the left side. It will put you out on the other side of the street. I’ll keep them distracted to give you some time to run.”

            “If this is because of Carver, they’ll be watching the estate,” she muttered, almost to herself.

            “Go to Darktown,” he said abruptly. “Go to the clinic, Anders will keep you safe while I deal with things up here. He has places to hide where even Carver wouldn’t know where to look, I’m sure.”

            He detested the idea of entrusting her safety to an abomination such as Anders, but there was no help for it. Either he defended her himself and risked her capture, or he sent her off and did what he could. There was only one thing the two of them had in common; there was no way in Hell that they’d let Marian be captured.

            Her arms wrapped around him for a brief second before she dashed away, disappearing into the overgrown tangle of foliage where he’d directed her.

            Turning back to the house, he closed the door and put the boxes back in their place. He struggled for an idea on how to play off his own presence in the house, as it was just as illegal.

            He made it back to the main room to find a group of five Templars. He didn’t see Carver with them, which gave him hope that he could play off his ploy.

            “You there,” said the tallest of the bunch. “We’ve gotten reports of a white haired elf coming in and out of this house at all hours, even though it’s not registered as having any occupants. You’d best have a good explanation for this.”

            The man was at least two heads taller than the elf, and his dark and foreboding features certainly made him a sight to tremble at. He looked like a man who enjoyed making people nervous, which would fit right in with Fenris’s story.

            “I’m sorry serrah,” he fake whimpered in his best impression of a Free Marcher. He cast his eyes downward, trying to look intimidated and innocently upset. “I don’t mean to be causing a bother, I just come in here looking for my cat. He keeps running off up here, and sometimes it takes me quite a while to find him. Its such a big house and all, and he picks a different place to hide every time. Which is why I mustn’t have heard you knocking, I was looking for him towards the back where he was last time. I don’t know why he likes it so much, but he’s a good little scamp and the last thing I got from home, and I promise to try and keep him in better, and-”

            “That’s enough,” the Knight interrupted, obviously annoyed by the meek and rambling story. “Just… Just don’t be causing problems.” Annoyed, yes, but apparently convinced.

            He motioned for his men to follow him, and headed back towards the door, which swung idly half open on its old hinges. Before they exited, the smallest of the group, still a notably larger size than Fenris, paused in the doorway and turned back.

            “Your ilk belong in the alienage,” he spat with a Fereldan accent. “Don’t forget it, or I’ll be making sure the next time I see you up here, regardless of why, you’ll be thrown back to the slums beaten like the mongrel dog you are.”

            With that, he slammed the door, shaking the frame.

            A heavy sigh escaped the elf’s form. _Wow_ , he thought. _I hope I do see you again, then we’ll see who is really a dog._

***

            After the guards had left, Fenris began to make his way towards the nearest Darktown entrance. The path there passed by the estate as well, and as he discreetly looked about, he saw that there were indeed more Templars than there should have been. Just as he was about to keep going along his way, Carver stepped out of the estate’s door and spotted him.

            “Fenris,” he called, running across the street. “Have you seen Marian? I really need to find her.”

            “Yes,” the Tevinter replied evenly. “I passed by her earlier today while looking around the city for simple work. She said she was going to see Isabella and Varric at the hanged man for lunch. Is something the matter?”

            “No,” breathed the younger Hawke. “I’m just needing her help with a little endeavor I’ve been planning for a while.”

            He ran off then, obviously taking the lie at face value without further explanation. It didn’t escape Fenris noticing the gesture he tried hiding, motioning for a Templar to follow. Something was most certainly happening, but Fenris would be damned if he let it happen to _his_ Hawke.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Sorry its on the short side, the next ones are lined out to be pretty decent length though. Hope Y'all liked it, lemme know what you think will happen next:)


	3. Chapter 3

            Darktown reeked even more than usual as he descended the ladder near Ander’s clinic. He hoped Marian had been able to reach him without any issues.

            The door swung open to reveal his beloved Hawke all twisted up in a blanket, asleep on one of the questionable cots. The apostate healer stood over her, concern written all over his face. As much as Fenris disliked the man, he couldn’t fault him for loving the woman who had stolen his own affections.

            “She hasn’t been sleeping or eating well,” Anders said without looking up. “She lacks drive to do even the most simple of tasks. She comes down here all the time to mope and sigh and I can’t do anything to help but give her a tonic and invite her to rest. She’s been having so many issues. All of which, I want to add, are entirely your fault.”

            “I know,” Fenris muttered, while adjusting his sword and feeling his shame set in once again. “Everything wrong in her life is my fault, save for maybe her ass of a brother, and even that might be tainted by me.”

            At this, the other man looked up, seemingly surprised.

            “I didn’t think you’d own up to it,” he said after a moment. “You’re usually so defensive about your choices and actions; I thought you would pull the same thing with this. So what? No defense? No claim that this was the better path?”

            “No.”

            That was all he said, but there was so much more yearning to spill out. _No, I have no defense. It was stupid. I was stupid. I love her, I love her so much. I hurt her so badly but I love her so much. I want to go back. I want to go back to that night, I want to stay, I want her to love me too, I was stupid, I was so stupid. This isn’t better. This is terrible. She’s hurting. She is hurting and it is all my fault. She wanted to help and I pushed her away, I love her and I pushed her away and-_

_…and I’m so sorry._

All of this churned inside his mind, but never spilled past his lips. The heartache stayed coiled in his chest even though he wanted nothing more than to scream and let the tears fall. He would not be weak now, not in front of this abomination, not when his Hawke needed him to be strong and protect her.

But he hadn’t been protecting her, had he? No, it was all too clear that she had begun to entrust her safety in the arms of another. In the very man who stood before him. How many times had Anders held her while she wept, held her up when she felt weak, or stood over her as she was sleeping?

“Thank you,” he whispered, admitting he owed the mage at least that much.

“Hm?” Anders looked up from studying Hawke’s face.

“I said thank you,” Fenris said, louder. “Thank you for taking care of her. She deserves good friends, she deserves to be taken care of.”

They locked gazes; Fenris’s for once soft and open in sincerity, a look usually reserved for Hawke alone.

“The Hanged Man, you said,” came Carver’s voice, shattering the quiet. “And here I thought you were against harboring mages.”

They both turned towards the entrance where Carver Hawke stood in full Templar armor, surrounded by a fleet of knights. Fenris recognized the one to his left as the last man to leave the mansion earlier, it appeared recognition was mutual.

“This man is an apostate mage, as well as the woman on the cot,” the younger Hawke declared. “As for the elf, he’s an accomplice to them both. See to it that the mages are secured.”

The group drew their blades and began to advance.

Hawke was groggily coming to after hearing her brother’s voice, even the strong sleeping tonic not being enough to keep her under. Upon realizing that she was in a room of men determined to take her to a cage, she jumped up and grabbed her staff from the floor.

Carver headed straight for Marian, a look of pure determination etched into his features. His sister began to back away, fear obvious in her stance. Fenris had always known that things were rough between them, but he had never imagined that Carver would be willing to turn his own family in to Meredith. Especially considering how close he had been to his twin, who also was born with magic.

It was clear though. Now, years after Bethany’s death, it seemed that Carver had finally reached his breaking point. Determination gave way to rage, and a soul splitting yell ripped forth from the young man’s snarling lips.

“Carver,” cried Marian, “Please don’t do this! I’m your sister! We’re a family!”

“No,” he raged. “I was never part of this. Family?” He drew his blade. “We weren’t a family! I was a kid on the run because my sisters and father were mages!” At this, he swung wildly in her direction, and she scrambled away, blood tracing down her arm from the cut. “Mother was a fool to think we would ever be happy. I was a child isolated his entire life because you lot were always so _bloody special_.”

Anders was holding off a group of three Templars, and Fenris was doing his best to keep two more distracted. Both had been with the group in the house when he feigned being from the alienage, one being the brute looking for a fight. He acted excited to be getting one at last. If he tried to move, they would target him and Marian both. He had to be ignoring some of the fog in his brain, strategies first, emotions later.

With the two men fighting the five knights, it left Marian alone to deal with Carver. Fenris watched out for her as much as he could with the two blades swinging at him. After a few more attempted jabs, Marian’s demeanor changed. She took her battle stance and aimed. While she fought, it was clear she didn’t want to seriously hurt the younger Hawke, but she wasn’t necessarily pulling her shots either. An ice shard shattered against the wall next to Carver’s head and he pulled back for a moment out of shock. Then another blast hit him square in the chest, knocking him to his knees.

Anders had incapacitated the Templars he had been fighting and had come to Marian’s aid just in time. However, Fenris had let himself become too distracted watching to see if she needed help, and a hard hit landed on his ribs. The air left his lungs and as he staggered back, another blow from a fist smashed across his face.

The two knights drove him to the ground and began to kick repeatedly. Fenris was sure he felt a few bones break. Hot blood dripped down into his eyes, but he rolled to the side between kicks and got to his feet again. His blade felt heavy in his hands, but he lashed out anyway, feeling it make a solid contact with one of his opponents. Taking strength in that fact, he struck a series of quick jabs and swings, each finding a mark on a knight.

But his respite was short lived.

The two made a uniformed strike that knocked the elf back to the ground. The force of it made his vison turn hazy and the edges of his sight turn black. A staff rolled into view. Hawke’s staff.  He looked up and saw that Carver had Marian pinned to his chest plate with her hands behind her back and was dragging her away. Anders lay in a pool of blood on the dirty ground.

He struggled to find his footing, he couldn’t let her be taken! The will to rise was almost within reach. Shouting voices seemed far, far away. He needed quiet to focus, he needed to help Marian.

A question was asked, but what did it say? A voice answered, “Leave him, he is of no use to us.” That voice. That was Carver. Who were they leaving?

One more violent strike came crashing down on the base of his skull, and all of Fenris’s confusion faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive!! Sorry it took so long to get this up! My computer broke and I had to get a new one. *cries* Anywho, what a chapter eh? Let meh kno if yall are still around and interested in more!


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. Remember that fic I started a year ago? Yeah... Imma finish it now:)

            “Fenris,” choked out the voice beside him. “Fenris, wake up. Wake up!”

            Everything hurt, and his head was pounding. He could feel the sickly crust of dried blood on his lips and taste dirt in his mouth as he slowly cracked open his eyes to see Anders next to him. The mage looked worse than Fenris felt- boasting a thick cloth blotting up blood from a chest wound and what was clearly a broken leg.

            The elf rolled onto his back with a cough, trying to reorient himself through the buzz of pain and confusion. He let his head loll to the side, breathing heavily against an oncoming surge of nausea. A few steady blinks had the worst of it under control, only for it to come barreling back full force when he saw Marian’s staff lying broken on the ground.

            _Marian!!_

            With a gasp, he turned and struggled to his shaky feet. How could he forget about Marian!

            “Where is she?” he asked, rounding on the mage. “Where would they have taken her?”

            “It’s dark outside,” Anders said woefully. “She’ll have been with the Circle of Magi for hours now.”

            “Fasta vass!” he yelled as he kicked over a cot. Marian couldn’t be left at the mercy of the Knight Commander- the woman was insane. The woman was a _monster_. He sympathized with her at one point, but things were different now. He had learned that not all mages were the same- she would refuse to take such a lesson. Marian- his beloved Marian- was at the mercy of a madwoman who would harm her before she ever got a chance to defend herself. Anders shifted in discomfort from the ground next to him as he fumed, coughing around his wound with a wince of pain.

            “How are you still breathing?” Fenris asked a moment later, remembering how the mage had been sprawled in a pool of his own blood. “Your wounds should have been the end of you.”

            “It takes more than this to kill a Grey Warden, Fenris. But I would be thankful if you’d pass a healing potion from the back shelf anyway.”

            The line of red potions blurred in his vision as he fought to keep his tears at bay. He wouldn’t cry in front of the mage. He didn’t have the luxury to be weak now, not when Marian needed help more than ever. He would be strong- he would be strong for the sake of the woman he loved. He had to be. He was going to get her back, and then they were leaving this madness behind- for good.

            And he had the perfect person to help him.

            “We’re going to break her out,” Fenris said with finality, pressing a bottle into Ander’s hands.

            “We?” the mage asked, arching his brow as he used the potion. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

            “How many times did you manage to break out of your circle? Six? Seven? You’re the perfect person to help me get her back.”

            “If I help you then we’re all outlaws and not even my status as a Warden will be able to stop the Knight Commander from hanging us up to dry in the Gallows,” Anders pointed out, getting to his feet and brushing off the worst of the dirt.

            “So we won’t get caught,” the elf countered.

            “Like its that easy!”

            “You and I have both managed to evade our leash-keepers on multiple occasions for how many years now?” He reached down and scooped up the man’s staff, rolling it between his hands before tossing it to its owner. “Not getting caught is what we’re good at.”

            Part of him was aware of the irony that he was insisting on working with a mage. He still didn’t particularly _like_ Anders, but he was the one who was best suited for the task at hand. Marian was a mage, but she was a good person. Maybe Anders was too, under all of that annoying… Anders-ness.

            “You know there’s a chance we’re already too late,” the mage in question said softly. “Knight Commander Meredith has been going wild when she catches apostates lately.”

            “Don’t talk like that,” Fenris growled.

            “I’m just saying you need to be ready should the worst come to pass!”

            “Just get what you need together, mage. We’re scouting out the Tower- _tonight_.”

***

            It wasn’t his decision for Merrill to come with them, but Anders insisted she’d be able to help so here they were- the three of them hunkered down on a rooftop looking over the space leading to the Tower of Magi under the cover of darkness.

            As an escaped slave of Tevinter, Fenris had never been fond of magic or the people who used it. If someone had told him a few years ago that he’d be crouched in a glorified slum next to two apostates getting ready to spring a third one from a prison, he’d have laughed and called them crazy. Yet it was happening.

            The small torches revealed the path the Knights traced on the other side of the wall where the mages were kept. They had a meticulously good beat, he noticed with disdain. It would be difficult to find an opening where they wouldn’t be spotted. He could hear someone yelling, his eyes settling on a small commotion in the corner of the mage’s courtyard. Three Templars crowded around a mage who was clearly trying to be meek and submissive. The largest of the trio was the one making all the ruckus, and he seemed like he wanted to escalate things further, but a call from across the way distracted him.

            He settled for shoving the mage to the ground and kicking them for good measure before leaving. The other two drug the person out of the yard just before the two factions’ leaders came around the bend and into view- walking out the gate into the square and up towards Hightown- clearly making a trip to the Viscount’s office or the guard HQ based on the things they carried with them.

            First Enchanter Orsino could be seen in the square below, arguing with the Knight Commander once again. Few of their words carried all the way up to the rooftops, but there were some that gave away exactly who they were talking about. ‘Ser Carver’, ‘mages’, ‘apostate’, and ‘Champion’ were all clear as they wafted up to the unseen observers above.

            “Do you think Carver will turn in all the mages he knows?” Merrill asked sadly beside them, her elvish eyes glinting in the dark as they watched them continue on their way.

            “He feels too strongly towards you to hand you over to the circle if that’s what’s got you worried,” Anders mused, not turning his gaze from the scene below.

            “I used to think he cared too much about his family to turn in Hawke too,” she said softly, fearfully even. “I know he cared about me once before the lot of you left us and went to the deep roads, but ever since you came back he’s been different. What if he’s decided he could be with an elf, but not an elf who’s also a mage?”

            “I’m not going to let Carver drag anyone else away,” Fenris said, butting into the conversation with stern finality.

            “You don’t even like me,” Merrill said with that wide-eyed look she so often carried on her face.

            “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But Hawke does. If she wants you around, I’ll make sure you stay around.”

            “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

            “Don’t get used to it.”

***

            Dawn was fast approaching when the heavy tread of a guard squad sounded through the stone alleyways. Five of the city’s best trailed through the street, Aveline at their point. They came to a stop in front of the entrance to the mages’ glorified kennel, only to be greeted by Carver himself.

            It took every ounce of self-restraint Fenris had to resist vaulting from the roof and beating the younger Hawke to a bloody pulp.

            It was obvious that Aveline was angry, her stance was enough to scream that at anyone witnessing the strained altercation below. Fenris, Anders, and Merrill all leaned forward, trying to hear what was going on, but to no avail.

            “We can’t hear anything useful from up here,” Anders huffed. “Let’s move down to that blind spot Merrill noticed earlier and get a better shot.”

            “I hate to say you’re right, but lead on,” Fenris sighed, following as they slipped from the roof, slinking down a side alley to an overhand closer to the action in the square.

            “-under the watch of the city and the guard. We have to talk with her for the sake of clarity in justice,” Aveline said as the trio peered over the lip of the short wall they crouched behind. “By refusing entry you’re standing against the law.”

            “Marian is being sequestered to ensure she is not an abomination- its common practice for all apostates who get brought in. If you wish to ask her for a statement regarding her introduction to the circle, you will have to wait until she is finished.”

            “And when will that be?”

            “Timing typically lasts a week, or so I’m told.”

            “A week then,” she huffed. “But, off the books of course, if she’s hurt when I come back in any way, shape, or form- I’ll have your head for it.”

            “For what exactly- upholding my vows to protect innocents, for doing my duty? If she ends up getting hurt it will be her own fault.”

            “We both know you didn’t join the Order to protect anyone.”

            “A week, Ser Aveline,” he said coldly.

            “A week- Carver.”

            Fenris could practically feel the young man bristle as the redhead purposefully left off his new title. The new-fledged Knight didn’t pursue her though, as much as it was obvious he would have liked to. Instead, he turned heel and marched back through the gate.

            Marian wasn’t going to be here in a week.

            Fenris would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come play in the comments- it'll be fun!


End file.
